Surface Wounds
by Quiet Time
Summary: Ianto and Gwen struggle to deal with the aftermath of Exit Wounds, while Jack is left with his own tragedy. Companion story/prequel to 'Beneath the Surface'. Contains reference to all canon pairings.
1. Chapter 1

**This is set during Exit Wounds, and is a companion/prequel to 'Beneath the Surface'. **_(I always intended to explain why Ianto was so cold during that fic, so here it is!) _

**Spoilers for various parts of both series. Hope you enjoy. **

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Jack stirred, well before the rest of them managed to raise reddened eyes. Slowly, reverently, he inched to his feet with his arms still wrapped around Toshiko, protecting her now as he hadn't in life. His legs trembled beneath him, unsteady with returning sensation after the unmeasured expanse of stillness during which they tried to come to terms with the havoc wrought tonight. In the city they'd defended, once again, at far too high a cost.

Jack ignored the steadying arm Gwen offered as he rose, disregarded Ianto's concerned frown, concentrating wholly on the limp figure cradled in his arms. He moved slowly, careful not to jostle her, in mindless obedience to the part of his mind, sunk in either denial or superstition, which insisted she'd feel it if he treated her roughly. His feet slid slightly on the usually coarse surface, slick now with a fluid it would hurt too much to name. He would burn those boots, later, before Ianto tried to clean them.

A fresh wave of grief struck twofold as Jack realized there was nowhere to lay his beloved burden but the metal table. The autopsy table. There could be no autopsy tonight, even if there had been a need to determine cause of death with her lifeblood spread around them. Toshiko would lay waiting for Owen to notice her, as she had for so long in life.

Jack reined in the shudders shaking him from head to foot. He couldn't break, not yet, maybe not ever, certainly not now. Not now, with so much left to be done. Not now, with too many people expecting him to be strong.

Jack placed a final kiss on Tosh's forehead and turned for the stairs, almost stumbling in his haste, before either Gwen or Ianto could see the fresh tears pouring from already aching eyes.

-XXX-

Gwen found herself reaching for Ianto's hand, only to have it seize hers half-way across the air between them, their unacknowledged rivalry discarded as the object of it fled up the stairs. Before the night was over, they might well bond in hatred of him, having left them with a clean-up operation that might break either of them, should they have to perform it alone.

Eventually, Gwen sighed, a gut-deep exhalation, then squared her shoulders. Second in command was a mantle she wore because the others didn't want it, but its weight lay heavy on her shoulders regardless. Jack had left them – again - and she was second-in-command. To a team of two, perhaps, but one of them had to take action, and even ignoring the stirring of responsibility it would be beyond cruel to allow Ianto to head the clean-up operation of his best friend.

She squeezed Ianto's hand, then released it and gestured unsteadily towards the table. "Do you want to…?" They couldn't leave Tosh like that, untidy, un-groomed…..only Gwen didn't know if she could bear to do it herself.

But Ianto shook his head. "You. Please. I'll…..I'll do the floors."

The floors, Gwen thought. The stairs. The walls, even. Surfaces on which bloody smears traced Tosh's last desperate journey. Gwen dragged her eyes to Tosh's face, calm and composed as always, and thought perhaps she had the best of the worst of tasks after all.

Ianto kept his eyes resolutely on the floor, falling gratefully under the hypnotic movement of his mop, while Gwen tended to Toshiko, her basin filled with water tinged the same red that stained his bucket. Plastic rustled as Gwen bagged the ruined clothes and still he didn't turn. Couldn't. Shouldn't, even if he could.

He'd been friends with Toshiko for years, but he'd never seen her unclothed, even accidentally. Their friendship had never strayed across that particular line. They shared their hearts, their souls, but never their bodies, and it was too late now to wonder whether they might have cured each other of infatuation with the ones who might never be theirs.

"A gown," Gwen murmured.

"Third cupboard from the end, second shelf," Ianto answered mechanically. Plain white, standard issue. Everyone was equal in the vaults.

"It'll do for now," Gwen murmured. "We can find something better when….when we clear her flat….

They'd have to clear Owen's, too, Ianto thought dully. Maybe they'd take one each. Gwen would know her way around Owen's flat, as Ianto knew his way around Tosh's, if for vastly different reasons. Or maybe…maybe after this, they'd be better doing them both together. No point waiting for Jack.

"She's ready," Gwen said, loudly enough that Ianto suspected it wasn't the first time she'd said it. He stared critically at the piece of floor he'd mopped at least four times already. The stain had faded, but might never vanish. Tosh would remain in the very stones of the Hub and he'd never be able to let his foot fall on that particular spot again.

The snap of rubber gloves echoed loudly as they peeled them free, and their hands joined again, pulling each other closer, closer, until they stood side by side, arms twining around waists and shoulders, looking down at their friend with eyes which hadn't yet replenished their stock of tears.

"I always wanted to be closer to her," Gwen almost whispered. "Always meant to….but…but.."

"Owen got in the way," Ianto finished. He didn't see Gwen nod so much as feel the movement beside him. "Like Jack gets between us."

Gwen's head turned in a sharp movement, but the eyes that met hers were calm. "I love Rhys," she asserted. "I'd never…." And she wouldn't have, wouldn't still. The thing with Owen, that was different. She could've walked away from Owen. She _had _walked away from Owen. Gwen wasn't so sure she could've walked away from Jack, and she'd never know whether it was wisdom or cowardice that prevented her from finding out.

Ianto ducked his head. "And I loved Lisa, and I never would have, either…" Something twisted his lips which might have been a smile, except a smile shouldn't make anyone's face look so sad. "In fact, I didn't….not until….until _after_."

Gwen blinked. She'd never asked, never _would_ have asked, but they'd speculated, she and Owen, on whether _that _had been part of Ianto's deception, too. Apparently not. And Gwen's heart hurt, actually, literally, so that Ianto shifted anxiously beside her as she flinched – because now she had the answer and she'd never have the chance to tease Owen with her knowledge.

A sound issued from Gwen that was almost a laugh. Poor Jack, she could almost feel sorry for him. All the little moths hovering around his flame, and still doomed to be second choice. Because both she and Ianto had known the value of the screen that held them back from the fire, however brightly it beckoned. Until the grate wasn't there to stop them, or the flame went out.

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**There are two more chapters to come, both pretty much finished, so updates will be regular.**

**Thank you for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you Guest for the lovely review. And thanks to the others who've followed/faved. You inspire me!**

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Toshiko lay serenely on the table, clean and robed and waiting for someone to steel themselves to begin the process of moving her to the morgue.

As Gwen and Ianto lingered at her side, each hoping the other would be able to force the inevitable words past their lips, they both turned with a guilty sense of reprieve toward a sound from above, the creak of a weight on the stair. They looked up in unison, expecting to see Jack,_ hoping_ to see Jack.

And it _was_ Jack, but not _only_ Jack. The limp body cradled in his arms lit a blazing white flame in Gwen's brain, a flame that flared from her mouth before she could even think about stopping it.

"Don't you dare, Jack," she spat, voice low, verging on dangerous. "Don't you _dare_ bring _him_ down while she's still here."

Above, Jack froze with one foot in the Hub and the other on the top step, face blank, begging only with his eyes, eyes which Gwen refused to meet. Her head shook in a wild, wordless denial, which finally burst into a babble of Welsh. Jack watched Ianto's face crumple even as he whispered urgently into Gwen's ear, but in spite of his efforts the edge of the whisper broke away to echo across the Hub and into eternity. "It's his _brother_."

"Gwen," Jack said, voice soft and uncertain. "Gwen, I need to…."

"Let him take care of it," Ianto muttered, under his breath but still not soft enough to escape Jack's ears. "Or do _you_ want to?"

Gwen broke free of the encircling arms and spun to face Jack. "But he killed her," she shrieked, the volume an insult to the hush they'd cultivated for so long. "He murdered her." She turned back to Ianto, hands shifting to grasp his forearms so tightly that Jack could see the wince from where he hovered.

"And you must remember, Ianto," Gwen went on, knuckles whitening on Ianto's arms. "You know, even if _he_ doesn't, that old saying, that a corpse will bleed in the presence of its murderer…And…..and she's got none _left_." Her voice tailed off into a shriek, one hand flying to cover her face in a vain effort to muffle the sobs shaking her frame.

Jack flinched as though he'd been slapped, stumbled as though he'd been pushed, staggering backwards until his legs gave way. He sagged down, down, until he was sitting on the floor, legs dangling through the railings to hang over the autopsy bay, his brother spread limply over his lap. His eyes pleaded what he dared not voice.

Ianto pulled Gwen's face into his shoulder, his own head snapping up, meeting Jack's gaze with his own, chiding, imploring.

Jack merely leaned forward until his forehead was pressed up against the railing too.

"We'll be out of your way soon," Ianto said hoarsely. "You left us to do this, Jack, so let us finish it in peace, for God's sake."

As Jack finally left, shuffling numbly like a goaded beast with his brother making his arms ache along with his heart, he caught the tail end of Ianto's comment drift along to follow him.

_"Assuming there is one."_

-XXX-

Tosh still lay quietly on the table, deaf to the argument flying over head. Deaf to everything.

"You go up," Gwen said tonelessly, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind Tosh's ear. "Someone should be there to meet her." And someone should be here to see her off, and that only needed the two of them, she thought bitterly, and a good thing, too, as it turned out.

Ianto's heels rang hollowly on the staircase. He could feel the eyes on him as he crossed to the entrance of the morgue and he turned as though magnetized to where Jack sat slumped on the sofa. Somewhere deep below the layers of grief Ianto knew that he ought to divert, just briefly, just long enough for a hand on Jack's shoulder. He knew, but he couldn't force his feet closer when the man who'd shot Tosh and left her to bleed out lay on Jack's lap, head tucked into his shoulder in a bizarre parody of an embrace.

Ianto reached the morgue as the gears began their tortured groan, raising Tosh from the slot in the autopsy bay. They might have carried her, Ianto thought, in the part of his brain still capable of processing thoughts, but it was fitting that Tosh's last journey be a thing of mechanics, of the technology she loved so much.

The gears ceased. Ianto's hands fumbled with the hatch door he'd opened a thousand times or more. He had a gurney waiting, covered with a fresh sheet, still smelling faintly of washing powder. He wasn't sure whether it was a selfish or selfless gesture to move Tosh before Gwen arrived, but either way there was comfort in the feel of his friend's body in his arms one last time. Even if he couldn't quite ignore the fact that she wasn't warm anymore.

Toshiko was cold, but Ianto's eyes burned.

-XXX-

Ianto did wait for Gwen before sliding Tosh into the drawer that would be her last, maybe eternal, resting place. He wouldn't have robbed Gwen of the chance for a final farewell, even if he _had_ been able to make himself zip the bag closed over Tosh's face.

Ianto had chosen the spot carefully, but he could see the question in Gwen's eyes as she found him at the very furthest end of the morgue. A question he hoped not to have to answer, because if Gwen hadn't considered the thought that plagued him, then he didn't want to be the one who made it haunt her, too.

He should have known better. Gwen never could let a question go unasked. Or unanswered.

"I didn't even know the mor….that it went this far back," Gwen said, raising her eyes from a long contemplation of Toshiko's motionless face. "Why here, Ianto?"

Ianto swallowed. His hands fiddled with the linen over Tosh's arm, tweaking it into more perfect folds. "I thought she wouldn't be disturbed down here," he said finally, hoping Gwen would take warning enough to leave it there. But Gwen wasn't the type to back down, either.

Gwen bit her lip as a fresh pang sped through her. "She can't be disturbed anymore, Ianto," she said gently, laying a compassionate hand over Ianto's, drawing it away from the cool linen. "And wouldn't you like to visit her sometimes?"

Ianto's arm twitched beneath her touch. Gwen drew away, gesturing helplessly. "It's just, I'd thought of maybe leaving flowers. I'd like to be able to do something like that….…. but it won't be easy with her tucked away back here." Her eyes rose to meet his, skewering him with a quizzical gaze. It was obvious she knew he was hiding something, and her innate curiosity couldn't let it lie, even now.

Ianto shoved his hands into his pockets. "It won't always be me managing this facility," he said tightly.

Gwen's brows drew into a frown, stubbornness warring with compassion. Ianto sighed, finally irritated enough by her persistence to give her the answer she was determined to have, in spite of the pain he knew it would cause.

"And when it _isn't_ me," he said slowly, willing Gwen to back off with every word, "When it isn't anyone who knew her, then I don't want Tosh too handy if someone needs...if _Torchwood_ needs…..say….a female human of Asian appearance…." And just voicing it made him want to gag.

Gwen's whole face darkened. Yesterday, she might have protested that Jack would always be here, but that was yesterday. Today, she didn't have the faith that Jack would be here _tomorrow_, let alone years from now.

Silence reined in the morgue. From below came the faint sounds of movement from the medical bay, warning enough that another body would shortly be making its way up into the morgue.

Gwen's eyes lit suddenly, a light that didn't sit well with the vicious twist of her mouth. "Jack was time-locked into one of these up here, wasn't he?" she demanded, waving again at the morgue drawers. "Waiting until today so he could come back out?"

Ianto nodded. It lay in his mind like a pebble in his shoe, that Jack had been lying _here_, where he'd walked past him every day, with the Jack out _there_ none the wiser, but Ianto wasn't ready to think about that yet. His head hurt quite enough already. His heart hurt worse.

"Well then," Gwen said slowly. "If Torchwood had time-locks in the 1800s, surely we could find one now?"

Ianto managed the faintest of smiles. He could indeed. He even knew exactly where. Tosh had had him dig them out months ago, after one had been used on the documents regarding Tommy, and had been gleefully cracking their secrets ever since.

Gwen kept Tosh company while Ianto hurried down to the Archives, his steps lighter than they'd been for hours. When he returned, they worked together to tuck Tosh safely away where no one would find her, with one of her own modified time-locks guarding her rest.

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**One more left. Needs tweaking! Thanks for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you BelladonasMom for the review. Hope you enjoy the last part.**

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They cried again as Tosh's tomb sealed, arms wrapped around each other in a way that was becoming familiar, only drawing apart when Gwen's phone vibrated in her pocket.

Ianto busied himself with nothing important as Gwen spoke quietly. To Rhys, he assumed.

"That was Rhys," Gwen confirmed, as she shoved the phone away. "He's organized Harwoods into doing supply runs up there," she continued, jerking a thumb upwards in explanation. "Fresh water, emergency food supplies, blankets. Until they get the electricity back up." Even over the pallor of sorrow and exhaustion, there was no mistaking the pride on her face. Ianto smiled in response, and it felt like a real one if he could judge from how stiffly it sat around his mouth.

"So they're letting Harwood's through, even where the roads are closed," Gwen added. "Rhys is coordinating so he can't come himself, but he's told his driver to pick me up." She stopped, eyes fixed on Ianto's face, feet shifting nervously.

Ianto nodded, feeling a faint wave of gratitude to his fellow Welshman. Gwen would get home safely, and Rhys would keep her there until she was properly rested. He could cross that off his mental list of things to worry about tonight.

Gwen, however, was still watching Ianto with her lower lip caught between her teeth. Ianto cudgeled his overtaxed brain. Surely she didn't think he'd be annoyed with her for leaving? Try as he might, nothing else presented itself, so Ianto dredged up an encouraging smile.

"Go, then, Gwen," he urged, making a vague shooing motion. "Go home while you've got the chance. Get some peace."

Gwen smiled faintly. "Come on, then," she urged. "Walk me out."

Ianto shrugged and followed. He might as well see her safely to her ride, he supposed. Then maybe he could collapse in a heap until the next crisis. Ianto eyed the sofa as they passed it, registering both its state of emptiness and dubious comfort.

Gwen followed his gaze with her eyes. "He was there when I came through," she said shortly. "I told him the autopsy bay was all his." Her tone was bitter. "His and his…."

Ianto sighed. "Brother," he supplied. "Still his brother, Gwen, whatever he did."

Gwen's mouth took on the edge that meant she was about to argue.

"Still his brother," Ianto repeated the tiniest edge creeping into his voice. "Same as Lisa was still my Lisa. There's still plenty to mourn for, Gwen, believe me."

Gwen's face paled further. "I'm sorry Ianto," she began helplessly, reaching for his shoulder but letting her hand drop away before it made contact. "I didn't mean…."

"I know," Ianto murmured, already feeling ashamed of his outburst. "I know, Gwen." It was his hand that reached out this time, and Gwen's flew to meet it, clenching together and tugging until they were once again entwined in a desperate hug which strove to comfort.

Gwen's phone broke the embrace again, buzzing beneath Ianto's encircling arm. Gwen dug in her jacket pocket, smiling a watery little smile as she read the incoming text. "My lift's getting impatient," she reported, squinting through reddened eyes as she fired off a reply.

Ianto dredged another smile out of his depleted stock. "So what are you waiting for?" he said, urging her forward with a hand on the small of her back.

Gwen resisted, biting her lip again. "Come with me," she burst out, hands twitching as though to drag him with her – which was a distinct possibility, knowing Gwen.

Ianto pulled her back into a quick embrace then stepped firmly out of reach. "Thank you," he said softly. "But I can't." He jerked his head up, towards the morgue. "I can't just leave him alone, Gwen."

"But…" Gwen protested.

Ianto shook his head. "I _can't_," he repeated. "He was there for me, Gwen, when no one else was."

Gwen's eyes dropped, dodging old guilt.

"And Rhys deserves to have you to himself anyway," Ianto added hastily, striving for lightness in an attempt to relieve remorse he hadn't meant to inspire, except maybe in himself. "Go home, Gwen, you've got a good man waiting for you."

Gwen lunged forward and caught Ianto in a lightning-fast hug. "I have," she agreed, stepping away. "And you know what," she called, over the sound of the cog alarm. "So does Jack. Though I'm damned if I know what he's done to deserve you."

The cog rolled back before Ianto could frame a reply. Which was probably just as well, because Ianto was experiencing what might be called an epiphany if he'd had the energy.

Ianto finally understood, with a rush of feeling that might have been called relief if he wasn't so numb, why in spite of the almost constant flirtation he'd never really been jealous of what Gwen shared with Jack. Insecure, often, but truly jealous, never; because somewhere below reasoning he'd known that while Gwen was certainly temptation to Jack, she wasn't a threat to Ianto. Or at least no long term threat.

Gwen had put Jack up on a pedestal long ago, and Jack wouldn't be Jack if he didn't bask in that for all it was worth, but in the process she'd raised him up too high to survive the fall of being found only human after all. Tonight, now, that's all Jack was, when Gwen needed her hero more than she ever had before. Just a weak, fragile human.

A human grieving a brother, the brother he remembered if not the one who'd rampaged through Cardiff today. Just as Ianto remembered the Lisa he'd loved even as she spread death through the Hub.

It was, Ianto thought, as the cog alarm faded to silence, a truly pathetic thing to have in common with his lover. Assuming the events of today hadn't shattered _that_ as well. If Jack thought that Ianto had turned from him as Gwen had - which he _had_, however he might try to justify it - but Jack had turned from _them_, too, or there would have been three people standing in the morgue trying to summon the courage to slide Tosh into her cold metal tomb.

And if no-one had turned from anyone, maybe there wouldn't have been only one person trying to do the same for….for Gray. At least he and Gwen hadn't had to do it all alone. .. But…but… but….

But Jack was still in the morgue, so maybe he wouldn't have to do it all alone either. Assuming Ianto could make himself forget, just for a moment, that Tosh was in there, too. Or whose fault it was that she was there at all.

Except that it wasn't Jack's fault. Jack hadn't set the bombs. Jack hadn't pulled the trigger.

Jack _had_ stopped his brother. The bruises on Gray's neck had a very familiar shape. Jack had done that, for them.

Ianto squared his shoulders and summoned what remained of his resolve. He could do this, for Jack.

He wouldn't have to look at Gray once Jack shut the drawer, after all.

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**If you are curious as to what happened when Ianto confronts Jack, you might want to peruse 'Beneath the Surface'. Or not.  
Thank you for reading.**


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